


Valkyrie

by smgmcrznana, Verdin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alcohol, Mystical shit going down, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-10 23:48:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13512312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smgmcrznana/pseuds/smgmcrznana, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verdin/pseuds/Verdin
Summary: "There are things between heaven and earth..." And so on, and so on. Cor Leonis never was a man for unctuous words, only willing to bear them if he had no other choice or the drinks were complimentary.The dark stranger he meets on a few occasions during his life manages to fulfill both of these conditions, and with every meeting, things get a little bit weirder...





	1. Trial

They were right.  
He should never have sought out this place, to challenge their warnings and spit on the legends and gods of old. Misjudgments he had made before, but none that he couldn't escape from and none he regretted like now. Regis... he had to prove to Regis that he was more than a tagalong, capable of being a warrior and not just a kid playing pretend.

They would know he had failed, not died, failed, when he didn't return, and Cor cried at the thought of that more than the thought of his own wasteful death. In the halls of the Tempering Grounds he was on his back, soaked in his own blood, limbs spread out to ease the pain and dislodge shards of broken bones, his sword or Gilgamesh nowhere in sight. Death had come for many here and he could feel death was coming for him soon.  
"Look at you." A voice high above him, low and gentle like rustling leaves and the feathers of crows. "It hurts, I know." A human, or a something utterly different? His head couldn't make sense of what he was seeing. It was looming above him until it suddenly wasn't, was down at his side, a thing that was not woven from the same fabric as this world, ever shifting, unsteady like a flame in the storm. "And yet, my sweet boy, I may not ease your pain." He did not know that one. Where Gilgamesh had been shadow and shine, this one was a fracture in existence itself.

Cor cried, not for his mom or his dad, not for Regis or Clarus or forgiveness but for the pain to be gone, to just die already if this was it, taunted by visions that made no sense. Even if he had the strength to call out he didn't know what to say, what to beg for, a rapid twitch in his little finger on his right hand distracting him along with the blood, the most terrible taste in his mouth, drowning him. He tried again to focus on whatever was calling him, eyes shifting from one side to another in his beaten skull, looking up at the twisted rock formations.  
"No, no, don't think like this. It is not your time yet, nor will it be for quite a while. There will be more pain, and some honor, and you will bear it all in silence, for that is the way you are. Old Gilgamesh sees great things in you, that is why he let you live. The first one since centuries."  
There almost was a mouth up there, speaking, smiling. A stranger, this one, and a strange one at that.

Let me live? More pain? Cor almost snorted, his broken nose too loose to not hurt at his movement. He was still on his back, keenly aware of how cold he was. "Who are you?" There was not the usual spunk in his voice, he was a scared boy, pleading for his life.  
"I'll be there when the end comes for you, to take you to ride with us, so you may know mercy, so you may know glory." Armor, smooth and golden, sunshine carved into metal, an uniform then, black and ornate, Lucian or close enough. Trying to see the details was like reading a book in a dream. "There will be no pain for you in death, Cor, that I promise."  
Solace. A sputter of blood. Cor smiled. A dream or not, it felt so real and so welcoming that for the moment he closed his eyes he felt warmth. He found strength to stretch a arm into the air.  
A hand firm around his own, and the downward spiral his body was falling down just stopped. "My beautiful boy..." The voice touched something in his chest, wrapping golden chains around his weak heart, stopping it for a moment, long enough for Cor to see the being at his side, to see skin cut from obsidian and black eyes like that of a bird, quick and shining. Not quite human, not more than a sculptor's nightmare come to life, and yet of the same perfection as a blade could be.

He was not afraid at the touch or the softness he yearned to see in those eyes. He was not afraid anymore of this being summoned at his near death or death, searching with blurry vision for something to remember of it, and understand where it was the feeling in his body was taking him.  
Through the deep dark well his mind was drowning in, the boy felt a touch on his lips, one that felt more real than everything else he felt before, more than the pain, more than Regis' gentle smile, and he gladly let himself melt into it.  
Then, the world went away.

"Cor! Godsdammit, boy, what did you do?" Somebody slapped him hard. "Didn't I forbid you to come here? Wesk, he's here!" Clarus. Yes. This was Clarus.  
It was all gone. The pain, the taste and smell of blood, the feeling of knowing that he had made a terrible mistake and that he had to pay for it with his life. Gone. The voice, the being? His eyes widened at the sight of Clarus and his mouth opened to speak, but nothing came out. He couldn't make out the sounds that littered in his ears. Gone, but for how long?  
Wesk's dark face now, tired and worried, in the red glow of the vial he opened. Elixir. "It will all be good, Cor. We are with you. Reggie will be here in a minute."  
If there was light from the sun or the stars Cor didn't notice, his eyes opening and shutting, trying to focus, not on the faces in front of him, but to recall the messenger, the warrior that had been by his side, on the kiss that shifted one world into the other. Had it all been real? How did he get here? What world is this?

Warmth around him, and pain, and a sobbing Regis that held him in his arms, pleading him to never do this to him again, and his friends trying to work over their king's body to save the boy's sorry little ass.  
He could feel them pulling and pushing, holding and releasing him, his limp body theirs to seize at their concern and their relief. Amidst all the turmoil pale blue eyes looked around once again, across the sky and the horizon, between the caring hands of his friends to find the savior, all that was on his mind now that the elixir was slowly working its magic. Cor bend his head backwards, feeling Regis' hand support his neck. Upside down he looked into the cave.  
This was not the room where the blades met.  
It was the entrance to the caves... Of course. They wouldn't have found him inside. The doors had sealed behind him. He must have managed to...  
"What do you have there, boy?" Clarus tugged at the bundle he held in his cramped fingers.  
Cor tighten his hold, suddenly unwilling to let go of the object of Clarus' attention, trying to pull it away from him and hide it. He still searched, still felt there was something beyond what he could see.  
"I won't take it from you, my Cor, I promise, but may I see?" Regis' voice was as soft as his hands.  
He could feel Regis' hand caressing his cheek, a moment needed to focus on his face before he gave a slow nod.  
An awe-stricken silence befell the men as they opened the bundle of cloth. Clarus ran his fingers over the cool metal of the gauntlet to make sure it was really there.  
"Did you, Leonis?" His voice was almost gone. "Did you kill him?"  
It took some time for Cor to move his eyes towards the gauntlet. He couldn't remember what had happened to Gilgamesh, only remembered that suddenly he was gone. Cor sniffled, not sure why tears were welling up. He wanted it so desperately to be true, but he knew it wasn't, knew he still had failed. He didn't answer, trying not to cry.


	2. Fears

It was dark here. Not too dark to safely navigate with a full glass, but enough to cover things with a merciful shroud. People here sat alone, tending the wounds the battles had left with liquor. No need to talk, not here.

It was Cor's 34th birthday and he had decided to take a day off. Just one single day when no worry about King and duty should cross his mind. It worked as well as expected.

"It's been a while." A hand on his shoulder, and somebody who sat down with him, sharp cut face in the shadows. A glass was put on the table, filled with oily golden liquid.

Cor _knew_ them, even if he couldn't place anything. Not a name, not a gender, just a voice that was so very familiar. "How are you doing, Cor?"

The sorry souls of the bar kept to themselves, no hustle or buzz still when Cor did a quick look-around of the scene, before staring at the stranger and putting glass to his lips. That was _his answer._

“So you were not given what you were wishing for, even though you did your best. Became even stronger. _Immortal_.“ The way they spoke the word it was a caress. Quick eyes, black as ink in a dark study.

His surprise did not show on his face at hearing the nickname. He was too tired to play his move in this guessing game, tired of talkative strangers in bars always ending up being tomorrow's regrets.

“You forgot about me. It was to be expected. May I invite you for a drink?“

Cor shrugged. "I will not say no to that."

He shifted his weight on the high bar chair to face the stranger, his empty glass hitting the counter with a loud _clink_ . "You're here to catch up on lost time?" _Still no clear memory of who the person next to him was._

The stranger moved a second glass full of the same golden liquid towards him. He must have brought it along before. A short grin with sharp teeth. “Work, Cor. So close to the lines of battle, there is always work. We share that problem. Work that never ends.“

"If you're here to hire me for work I can't help you, got enough on my hands as it is." Both truth and a lie. Cor's dismissive expression returned, as did the thoughts that were running through his head before the stranger interrupted, the thoughts he was trying to forget.

"No, no." A shake of their head. "I am not here for that, and I am not here for you, don't you worry. Your heart would hurt less if I was. It is still him, right? The one you told me about."

_That_ caught his attention. The stranger couldn't possibly know _who_ he had been thinking about and yet, it felt like they absolutely knew, and Cor still could not put a name or memory to them. "What are you here for _then_ ?" Accusing blue eyes looking into the deep black eyes of the stranger. _Had he been drinking too much already or was there really no reflection?_

"In this moment? To share some mead, and to tell you that what you are thinking about is not the end for you, even though the wound in your chest cries for it." Their voice barely above a whisper, but clear over the blues playing over the speakers here. A large sip and a hard swallow. The discomfort on Cor's stern face was clear if one knew where to look for it; his eyebrows slightly furrowed, lips barely there as he tensed his jaw and posture ever so slightly. Hunched as his chest leaned on the counter, as if the pain within was too heavy to bear. "Ridiculous for a man like me to still feel like this."

"You've done all this, and he still doesn't see? My poor, beautiful boy."

The taste on his tongue was honey and summer and _life_ , way more than should be in a drink outside commercials, and Cor felt how they were sitting here and _somewhere else_ at the same time, the bar and its patrons just a shadowy backdrop. He tilted his head at the affectionate, almost sorry words. _Unbelievable_. He shook his head and sighed. "Getting me a drink is pity enough, stranger."

“You indeed are an amazing man, Cor. Constantly unimpressed, and sightless in a way few humans are.“ They seemed utterly amused by that. “There is no pity here. It is not mine to give.“

_Almost there. The memory was just out of his reach. What did he mean by sightless? This was..._ He looked at them and narrowed his eyes. _This was strange indeed_ . A subtle shift in the world around him, like they had simply stepped to the side, hidden in an little alcove in a room buzzing with people. Another sip of the mead. Who the fuck was drinking _mead_ anyway?

As the liquid ran down his throat, the face in front of him became clearer. Black and angular and somehow crystalline. Not human, not quite. He steadied his hands around the glass.

"You never told me your name."

"You will know me without a name, and you will always know me, for where your path leads I shall wait for you."

"I..." Cor rubbed his face. "You don't expect me to worship you or anything? Because I will not do that. Not for the Six, and not for... whatever you are."

Amused again, a small laughter as they shook their head. "No, Cor, I am not to be worshiped, and it seems like your worship is already elsewhere."

"But you are _something_ . More than _somebody_ , and more than a dying dream." Trying to speak steady, as he usually did, and failing.

"And yet you pay it very little mind, only asking questions you don't care about _now_ in an attempt to distract me from your aching heart. Now, my beautiful boy, why are you here alone on your birthday, thinking of him?"

"I... I mean, look at me. I'm not the type for party hats and cake. Them trying everything to make me smile and then laughing cause I don't. _Oh, our Cor. Open your presents._ " He drank. "And then he'd come over, and bring little Noct so he could give me his presents himself, and it would be something he made out of clay, and I would _have to smile_ , because he is the prince and Reggie would look at me _that way_ and... I'm hiding, okay?"

"Hiding among dishonorable men, and hiding will not help ease your mind. What is it about the king that pulls you in, still so desperate to serve at his call after all these years?"

" _I love him_ ." Cor looked slightly shocked as he spoke the words for the first time. Licked his lips. ""And I know you will tell me he doesn't love me. Not the way I crave. _I fucking know that._ " A bitter twitch around the corners of his mouth.

"Then you must know you can't keep running to him, my poor Cor." Cor felt a squeeze on his hip.

Cor's nails clicked on the glass with mead. On the earthenware with mead, then on the glass again. "I have nowhere else to go. Can't turn around now. Can't imagine what it'd be like to get there either. That's some dumb masochism for you."

"Your life is not bound to him despite your wish for it, and your path does not lead to him more than it leads towards your own happiness." Time had passed but still the bar had not seen more souls visiting, the same sorry, lonely mood lingered, matching the spilled drinks on tables and floorboards.

The marshal looked at them for a long while, face unmoving. Emptied the drink. Noticed how much his mind was swimming after this one glass. "At least you didn't bring cake." He rubbed his head, felt the coarse hair. Felt the hand that was still on his thigh and noticed that he didn't mind it being there at all.

"Is this your personal opinion or a general truth?"

"It is a general truth that your life, like mine, is to be a life not only of great pain, but of greater deeds as well. My personal opinion of you is a different matter." A soft smile, and another glass of mead sliding across the counter, loud enough to alert Cor to its presence.

"And you're trying to make me drunk before you tell me what _you_ think. Understood." And acceptable, it seemed. The marshal drank. "But say, have you never tried to hide? Always faced your, " he intended to say _enemies_ , but what came over his heavy tongue was, "fears? Fuck."

"Did you come here for other reasons than drinking, my poor boy?" Their glass clinked against his.

"I cannot hide from what seeks to destroy us, I must face them for they only destroy us if we think we can conquer them by destroying ourselves first, as I thought you learned too, all those years ago."

Cor looked at them blankly. Nodded slowly, then. “And what shall I do? Get some roses, go down on my knees and _tell_ him?“

"I didn't peg you for a romantic, Cor." First time his name was so personally said. Another soft squeeze, the being's voice so clearly the most merry in all of the bar. "What are you afraid will happen if you did? You'll have to drink and hide more than you already do, find new ways to hurt the hurt? You seem not to care about that, my pretty, wounded warrior."

"Shame. Massive amounts of fucking shame. That is what will happen. And I... I couldn't stay in his services if he refuses, and he _will_ refuse. That would be... I'd rather die." All the severity of the world in these words. He had thought about it, played the scenario in his head more than once, and it always ended badly.

"You almost died for him once and that was not enough for you, but it was enough for him to realize he needed to secure your well-being the best way he can.. he has his destiny, and you yours." The hand left Cor's thigh, coldness in its place.

“I know.“ His voice silent now. “And I know he's not refusing my _gift_ , but trying to _care_ , like a father would, and still...“ His own hand took the place of the stranger's, but it was not the same. The sharp teeth of loneliness tore at the borders of his self-control, tearing away little pieces.

"My poor Cor.." Their hand returned to close their fingers around his.

"This... this is not me. It's a part I neither like nor understand, and I'd like to cut it away, but I just _can't_ . It fucking _scares_ me. It's not even about trying to get into his pants. I'd be happy if I never did if he just..." He swallowed hard, emptied the second glass with ease and without tasting much.

"If he just..?" The question lingered in the air like the thick smoke that was blown from the mouths of poor bastards.

“Allowed me to be his own. Something like that. Fuck. What am I even saying...“ He let his head drop heavy on the table.

They put their hand on the back of his head and stroked the short hairs. "You're not anyone's to own, my beautiful warrior.. even if I wish to collect you. Besides you're much too strong-willed to surrender completely, even if you don't know it, even at his feet." An arm around his shoulder, the hand on his head now on his chest, trying to make him sit back up.

“ _Collect_ ,“ he mumbled, allowing himself to be pushed into an upright position. “Why should anyone want that...“ Blue eyes trying to focus. “Something in the drink, right? You put something in that sugary shit, and I drank it all, and...“

"As much as you may hate the legends and stories that surround your person, it shouldn't surprise you they are source of admiration and offers, from anyone really." They stared at his face, trying to gauge how the marshal was faring, slightly amused, slightly worried.

"There is nothing in the drink than what it is. Perhaps it is not to the taste or stomachs of mortals, or even immortals, but you handle yourself pretty well all things considered." A slap on Cor's back almost made him fall forwards again. "My drunken warrior, let's get you home."

"No fucking cake, you hear?" His protest was mild in a spinning world, and he wondered if he was going to be sick within the next minutes. His stomach gargled in agreement. _But that had been barely anything..._ "Too early fo' home." The words rolled clumsily over his heavy tongue.

They took Cor's arm over their shoulders, slowly making him stand up, mindful to not trip the bar stools behind them. "I presume this is another birthday well celebrated."

"When's yours? Birthday, I mean." The heavy arms around their shoulders very soon became an embrace, and the mortal's head landed on their chest. He _was_ holding up well. Others of his kind were in a world of their own after the first glass.

"You'll bring a gift?" They smiled, wondered for a second if they should just sling the Marshal over their shoulder as they could with ease, but if he could still stand he could walk. They placed a kiss on his head and disentangled from the embrace, supported him again and walked, Cor limping along, an awkward dance to the doors, out of the dingy bar and into the night.

 


	3. Guilt

Cor heard it on the radio. Insomnia had fallen. The king was dead, long live the king.

_The king was dead._

_His King._

_Regis._

And he had not been there. Had been there to show his son and his friends around, teach the boys some tricks, as Regis had asked him to. Had not been there to save the man he loved, as Reggie had asked him to.

And yet, the star continued to turn, just like that. Even his King was, in the very end, just a man.

Cor felt he should do something, anything. Rush back to the Crown City, help there. Find that the Glaives had everything under control and he was just in the way. Travel with the boys, have an eye on them, but Reggie had asked him explicitly _not_ to do that, and he was glad in a way not having to see Noctis. The boy looked so much like his father that it hurt, even if he had Aulea's eyes.

The marshal had nowhere to go. He stayed with Cid for a few days, drinking with the old man, but Cid saw no use in wasting his time with grief when there were things to do, and could not share his pain about a man that had not been his friend for some decades, so Cor left. Went hunting.

The hunt was the same, always was, helping him focus on the things at hand, keeping him from musing too much, and so he only returned to his tent when he was close to passing out from fatigue.

As he neared the camp there was a light that shouldn't be there. With a hand on his sword he approached cautiously until he saw the being sitting there, the glow from a fire dancing on black armor. "You can't keep doing this, Cor."

"Is it time to go?" He was surprised by the faint hope in his own voice. Settled down at a fire that felt _real_ and buried his face in his hands. _So very tired..._

"It is not, you have ways to go, and death, death is not the way or the answer for you." A drink was put in front of Cor. "You may rest, but you may not blame yourself for this."

He let himself drop back onto the ground, arms spread wide. "It's too late for that. Far too late. I could have gotten him out there, him and Clarus, and we would have a proper chance to take back what's..."

_No. Probably not. Regis had not been doing well the last months. The toll the ring took on him was a heavy one, and while he put on a smile when the others were around, Cor knew how much his body ached. How very hard it was for him to get up in the mornings, how the things the doctors gave him needed higher and higher doses._

He reached over, taking the hand in the gauntlet, touching his strange _friend_ for the very first time from his own will. "Still. Thank you."

The hand he held tighten around his. "You hurt too much over things you can't change, Cor, things that are beyond your control, you forget that it's not the way for us to stumble before them, but to see what's on the other side of them." They sat down next to Cor, close and comforting as the first time they had come for him.

"For _us_?" A tired chuckle. "That sounds like you and me were on the same side in this, instead of two very different sides Life and death and all that. Even though we may be working on the same border."

"We meet because our paths cross, and because we must carry on." A finger softly stroked his throat, along the hard vein visible by tension.

"You're fucking kidding me, aren't you?" Cor closed his eyes and slightly turned back his head, accepting the touch. "First time? Okay. Job or fate or something. Second time? Maybe. Things to do in the area, I give you that. But this time, out here in the middle of nowhere? This is seriously just _paths crossing_?"

The repetitive caressing motion of their finger turned into gentle scratches under Cor's chin.

"You are here to grieve, still holding onto guilt that is not yours to bear. There is something out there for you to aid you even if you find it unlikely."

"Is that your way of saying you wanted to see me because you know I'm having a hard time?"

"That's my way of saying you are not alone in this world."

" _Could_ it be your way of saying something else?"

It was nice to be touched again, even if he still not truly understood what they were. Maybe enough of their mead would explain. Maybe only death would. He felt his body relax under their caress.

"My beautiful Cor, you seem to never like what I have to say to you, so why should it be that you cared if it was?" Their palm slipped underneath his neck to massage the tense muscles there, once in a while a finger pulled at the hem of his shirt.

"After all, you've never once called for me. or anyone for that matter, so it is I that must come to you to alleviate you in your time of need."

“Mh.“ A little grunt that could mean anything. “Your own decision, or truly someone's orders?“

"Does anyone else come for you to help? Perhaps therein lies the answer."

“Fuck no, it doesn't. _Therein_ lies the difference if I drink the stuff you serve and ask you to stay the night or if I keep on listening to you speaking in riddles and wonder what the hells you're doing out here.“ What started angry ended with something that was close to a smile.

A hand cupped his face, ancient thumb tracing along the stubble and faint wrinkles made to softly stretch by his mouth. "You want to believe there's another reason for me being here other than comfort. Other than reminding you of the glory that awaits you and that death is not the end. That there is, but you must see through your grief most of all, my dearest Cor."

"If I get through grief and guilt and worry, there'd be nothing left but duty. I'd be even less fun then." His lips formed a kiss against the stranger's finger. "That honey stuff helps me to see you clearly, right?"

They smiled as they played with his pout, gentle swipes across his bottom lip so dearly coveted.

"So it's not only duty with you, you seek fun now and then. My appearance is as how you wish to see me, it's all on you, your needs, I could never hide from you more than that."

Cor slowly sat up and reached for the drink. Sipped. It was still way too sweet and strange for his needs, but this time, he noticed how the world around them stepped aside the tiniest bit to make room.

"That's only half-true, right? There is something you prefer. Black and gold. Then you tried to change it to something I might understand, because..." A turn of the head, watching their shape shift and flicker like air over a hot road, "because you didn't want to scare me even more."

"Are you scared of me still?"

"I... less so than of many others, even though you are nothing I _know_." More mead.

 

They watched the glow of the flames move like waves across his brow.

"My beautiful boy, what would you like to know of me? My true intention does not serve you more than the mead will tonight, what will serve you is staying on your path."

"Can hardly ask you if you're top or bottom, now can I?" Cor shook his head. "Aw fuck. Sorry. That came out wrong."

"It came out as you intended, that's all I can ask for." A laugh, and a hand massaging his shoulder.

"You only meet me on my worst days. Why? That your thing?" Muscles and bones were one solid brick under the skin, and he tried his best to not tense up even more.

"You need me not to distract you when you're doing well and you're not exactly one for being cheered on. Though it would be my pleasure to meet often, you're not one for company either."

"Understood." That he did. One for company, he was not, even if there had been times he yearned to be. Tried his best. Failed. "Say. If you're trying to make me drunk again: Will you stay the night this time?" He bit his lip. That, too, came out as intended, even though he was not sure how to go from there. All these years, and he still was as clumsy as ever.

"I will not leave you alone when you need me." The hand traveled further down his back, slipping under the black jacket to caress.

"Is it what you _want_?" He emptied the glass, tried his best to focus on a face carved from obsidian, the face he remembered so darkly from his first death.

The caressing movement had more purpose now, his shirt sliding up and down vigorously, cold air sneaking a kiss. "If you want, my beautiful warrior."

A sudden movement, and he was kneeling in front of them. "Is it hard to answer a simple question?" His hands running over arms that were armor and leather and skin at the same time, and for a moment, even the silken fabric of Regis' bathrobe. _No. Not that._

Their hand ran through his short hair and down the back of his head, gentle fingers on his throat before resting under his chin, a thumb pulling down his bottom lip and softly pushing inside.

Again, the thought of his last lover, his gentle, slow hands, and he saw their face take the traits of the one that still filled his heart. He turned his head, fighting back hot tears that suddenly rose in his eyes.

“Don't. Please. No matter what I think of. Not _him_.“

"My dearest Cor.." The fingers beneath his chin moved his face back into their view, tilting upwards to see his closed eyes, a thumb trailing along the creases under them, wiping away at tears that had not fallen, Cor's face softly held as they placed a kiss on either eye.

"Are you sure?" Concern and adoration in their voice made clear their willingness to serve him, the man who hurt, yet still was so was so brave, to do anything to consult and heal the broken warrior.

“And not that little shithead Loqi.“ A desperate try to keep his emotions from welling up again. The winter-sky eyes remained closed.

“Yes. I'm sure. I couldn't stand to look into his eyes, even if... he'd smile and be a little _melancholic_ , not because I failed him, but because he was who he was. And... you shouldn't be a fucking substitute. No one deserves that.“

They allowed time for composure to return and put their lips to his eyelids once more. Their hands on either side of his face stroked along the hairs there before drifting fingers over the helix of his ear, then downwards his neck to slip under the collar. Inside they moved along his shoulders and down his arms, freeing him of his jacket.

"As we both are, we shall find solace in each other. You were always truthful to me."

“I didn't have much chance to be anything else with you, let's be honest here.“ A short smile and then, with newfound resolve, his shirts followed the jacket. The light of the flames flickered over pale skin and old scars.

"My beautiful Cor..." They slowly undressed, cape, belts and chains falling to the ground harshly.

"When you lied to yourself before, the last time we met, you were not yourself, but you have managed to understand it now even if you don't know it." They moved closer, wrapped their arms tightly around Cor's waist, hands moving along the curve of his back, replenishing the heat gone with clothes. Their face nested in the crook of his neck, kissing veins and collarbone.

"I don't even know if I understand _now_ ." Eyes still shut to the world, letting the being be what it was, heart beating faster under their caress. He did not want to think, enjoy the emptiness in his head for as long as it lasted. His callused hands could not make sense of what they were feeling, skin or a warm stone or something liquid and oily or bliss or nothing at all, but as he _touched_ , all the little wounds that festered in him just _faded_ , and he was nothing but _here_ , night and skin and fire.

They held and kissed him still, under the spell of the stars and the crackle of the fire, of finally getting to taste him after so long. "You will see." Silently said as hands traveled down to undo what little modesty remained. "You will see, I promise you that."

 

  
When Cor woke long after sunrise, the embers still smoldered. His head hurt. Had he been drinking? He darkly remembered he had, and he darkly remembered the stranger he drank with, the stranger he... oh. That explained a few things.

The world seemed a different place, just slightly, just in a few shades, a little less _real_ , and as he tried to recall the stranger's face, there was an empty place in his mind, a locked door, and he knew secrets were hiding behind, waiting to spill if he only found the right key.

  
Then he remembered something, a little detail that had managed to hide under other thoughts for some hours. The king was _dead_ , and it still felt like he fault.

 


	4. After sunrise

His burial was as silent as his life, even though all of them were there. Iris was crying openly, while the others found no tears.

Cor stood at his own grave, watching them, and felt a little bit awkward.

They had waited until Noctis did what he had to do to bring his body under the earth, allowing his faded eyes to see the sun one more time, and the Immortal was wondering if the young King was as lost in the Crown City as he was here.

"I know this is not how you had imagined it. A quiet passing and a mournful crowd. Your bodily remains still somewhat intact and undefiled." A smile spread across the Valkyrie's face, standing by his side, their hand on his shoulder.

"You have done well, Cor. Fulfilled your duty, fought until the end, died a warrior's death."

“Didn't hope I'd manage that. Was a piece of work.“ His hands were in his pockets, looking for his flask. Finding it. Drinking. “Can I meet Noct? Congratulate him on a job well done?“ Cor was probably the person among the mourners who was least concerned about the dead man down there in the bed Titan made.

" He will sure be pleased to see you again, to learn of your legacy and have a chance to honor it over a drink with you." They watched the sorrowful burial with happiness in their eyes, proud of Cor for the people he had guided through darkness, one way or the other, in spite of it all.

“Thanks for keeping your promise. It didn't hurt.“ The marshal's hand found the obsidian one. “And I think I understand now. What you are, I mean.“

"There must be some rewards for your sacrifices, for doing even better than what I expected of you. And you will have plenty of time for understanding and practicing your new role, for our work is never done."

"Getting laid by you wasn't much of a sacrifice." Cor chuckled. Now that it all was  _ over _ , life somehow felt easier. Well, not life. Whatever this was. He had said his goodbyes years ago, even if he never said them aloud. It was only the girl who was his last anchor here he was sorry for. "Say, may I leave someone here something? It is not much, nothing tangible, but..."

The somber mood at the burial still lingered as the guests didn't seem to know what to do next. Some had dispersed, some had stayed, not wanting to leave. "It would only be right that I allow you to, that you let her know."

"Her." The marshal smiled. Nodded. "Thank you."

His hand left theirs, and with a few steps he was over at the young woman with the tear-streaked face that stood by her brother's side. Laid his arms around her and pressed a kiss onto her forehead. "Don't cry for an old fool, my girl. Bet you won't have seen the last of me." A part of him dared to hope that Iris, with her wise wide eyes that sometimes saw so much more than his, would see through the veil that separated them now.

"You've done more great than you can imagine, my dear Cor, your time as mortal as been worthwhile and inspiring. She will not forget you, the others won't either."

Iris meanwhile shivered. Looked up, and looked  _ at him _ , eyes wide and filled with disbelief. Made a little noise that might be his name, and broke into a smile that was a bright as the new sun.

“My girl...“ he repeated. “No, you won't forget me, will you?“

Her little callused fingers touched his hand, held onto it, and she shook her head, still beaming under tears.

"She's a special girl indeed, and the bond between you inseparable.. powerful even." They stood and watched the young woman's reaction, the happiness that Cor's touch instilled, amazement in their voice as they considered her.

Iris' dark eyes darted from her beloved friend, as if she had heard their voice, and focused on something behind him. The pupils grew large, eating away almost all of the beautiful brown, and all the color drained from her face. A suffocated little yelp.

Cor felt his companion's hand on his shoulder. "Is it time to go?" He saw Gladio wrap his arm around his sister, dragging her close, and he saw him still staring at something, at  _ them _ , and he saw her lips moving, but the sounds that reached him were muffled and wet, words spoken under the waves.

"Our work and our powers demand of us that we continue onward, always. If she can see us, she may be a suitable warrior, destined for great things." Something was left unsaid, foreboding.

Cor knew her well enough to see she was  _ scared _ like she hadn't been in years, and that she pressed her face against her brother's clothes like she was trying to hide under there, but old habits told him  _ not to say that. Get them away from her. Keep her safe _ .

"It's just the stress getting to her. Let's mosey."

The being lingered for a moment longer, quiet and so very _interested_ , until Cor just dragged them away. No need for comfort when there was work to do, and no need for any stranger to know his girl's face too well.

 


	5. Crossovers

Green.

That was Cor's first thought when he woke. After that came _bottle_ and a rough voice that spoke to him. “...not that bad,“ it said, and a hand ruffled his short hair. “Want a drink? You look like you could need one.“

_Green bottle_ . He was lying on the floor. No, a straw mat. The pain was gone. His strange lover was... gone? His hand came into focus, strong and callused and so much _younger_ than he remembered.

“They asked me to look after you for the first bit.“ The voice again. “Told me you know about the details, but all in good time.“

A face came into view, a man with dark hair and a scar over his face that had cost him one eye. “I'm Auron. Ex-human, just like you.“

Cor took a moment to study the man before he studied the rest of his surroundings.

" _Ex_ -human?" He had woken up in stranger places, on harder surfaces and in more compromising states of undress and harm, and yet, the kind voice of the man and the lack of noticeable restraints or pain made it hard to think of how he had gotten there than those instances where he _had_ found himself at the mercy of people of undesirable intentions. _Always those damn bottles' fault._

“Dead, pretty much. And too tenacious to quit the job.“ A wide grin over his high collar. “Think you can sit?“

He didn't wait for an answer, dragged the marshal upright instead and held him by the shoulders to make sure he stayed this way.

Cor turned his head to look the man square in the face, searching for a twitch or wavering gaze that would make sense of what the hell he had just told him, that this was in jest. _You're fucking kidding?_ There was an odd feeling in his body, not from drink or injuries, nor poison or disease. No, it didn't _hurt_ , but it something he had never felt before, and it made him wary. "So I died. How did _that_ happen?" Still no memory or certainty of the situation.

“Hells if I know. They didn't tell. Death is a very private affair. Probably in battle or after something heroically failed. That's the same for most of us.“

 

He looked at him. still confused. He did fit the profile but still it did not make sense to die but then _not_. "Auron, was it?" He placed a hand over one that held his shoulder. "I would very much like to know what the hell is going on over a strong drink." Vaguely threatening, sighing. "And I would like to know where the rest of my clothes are also."

“Ah. Wasn't gonna ask you _that_. They took a liking to you? That sometimes happens. Little fires in their time, a lifetime of flames in ours. Take the bottle if you want a drink. Something proper, not that honey shit.“

He helped the newbie to reach for it.

Cor only now realized they were in a garden, spacious enough that the walls around it got lost somewhere. Meadows and green grass and something that felt like sunshine without a sun in the sky, some strategically placed rocks and barely any flowers. A small stream made its way through a little landscape of smooth stones. It was _peaceful_ in a way he never experienced.

"I would like to reiterate that I have no fucking clue about what is going on or what happened."

He unscrewed the lid and drank haphazardly, spilling a few drops as he did. "Surely you must know _something?_ " If Cor was honest with himself, he was getting desperate, a slight panic slowly gripped him. If he truly was dead, had he been alone at the time or were there others? Did _they_ make it?

"You got a name?" Either this Auron didn't see this kind of despair for the first time or he was way beyond caring. He wiped the spilled drink from the marshal's chin with the sleeve of the red _bathrobe_ he wore.

Cor questioned the intention behind the action, started to want to force the man to stop with his overly friendly assistance, but... never mind that for now. He could always fight his way out of this later if need be.

"Cor Leonis. And how will that aid me in any way, _Auron_ ?" _You were here to help, right?_

“Having a _name_? That means you brought your sense of self over here. Your memories. Not everyone manages that. Didn’t they tell you?“

He undid his wide belt, peeled down his robe and laid it around Cor's shoulders. Sturdy fabric and wide sleeves, more a coat than he had expected. Beneath, Auron looked more familiar. Black fabric and scars, a part of the family.

“Having a name here is _good_. Lock it away and don't give it out too easily.“

 

All of this felt too dreamlike and irrational. Should he find solace in that answer? Cor shook his head, and noticed the serenity of the place again, a calming silence, weird and heavy, and it unsettled him. "What is this place?" He put his arms through the sleeves, tried to cover himself up though the other did not seem to care at all. Mostly an action of habit. Ready at all times.

"This? _My place_ . Always wanted a garden, never had the time for one. Other than that, it's a space inbetween. Not quite the afterlife, and for not the world of the living for sure. You'll get your own place to stay, and you'll grow accustomed to it with the years. Learn to walk the paths between the worlds, find some new friends, visit old ones. Not that bad of a job, really, once you get over the _bringing home the fallen_ -thing."

Cor listened, found the bottle again, held it and stared at it, somehow the only thing that felt real. He tried to fathom other worlds and what it all meant. _Space inbetween, afterlife, but... that is only for Gods?_ Somehow it was hard for him to recall his past, a big void in his memories as if everything was stretched far away from him, tied to him only with a thin thread.

He tried to _feel_ that he was _dead_ and so was the man speaking to him, but it just still didn't make any sense. _How does being dead feel anyway? Fuck_.

"...Is this it, then, for us? We _are_ dead, but we can't die, or can we? _Afterlife?_ There's something beyond _this_? How long have you been here? Are you _sure_ we are dead?"

Cor felt that he was speaking gibberish as all these words fell out, and suddenly the feeling of dread, of pain and death still being a thing came over him. Why he feared that _now_ , when he rarely feared either when alive he didn't know. He drank again, still making a little mess.

"Where I come from, _death_ was a pretty complicated thing. When your body couldn't go on, a part of you lingered in the world until somebody showed you the way to the Farplane, the afterlife. We had specialists for that. If you were really stubborn and managed to avoid those people, you could stay for a few years longer, to do what you had to do. Imagine us as something like these specialists, helping those that get lost find their way _home_. If you really don't want to do that, I'm sure something can be arranged." Auron smiled and laid a soothing hand on the man's back.

"Job ain't bad once you get used to it, and most are really glad to see you. Give it a try before you opt out. I know it's not what you've expected. Was the same for me. Finally ready to go, finally finished with the shit I promised to do, and I say my goodbyes, let go... and am welcomed by some armored gal telling me I am still needed, and about glory and duty, and I stare at her and just want a drink and a nap."

"So if I opt _out_.. I don't really have a choice, do I, Auron? Where do we go from here?" All Auron's answers did was raise more questions. Cor just wanted to fall asleep again so he could wake from this dream, but Auron's hand remained, calming and supporting.

"You go and tell them you want to be with your loved ones, and they smile and nod and send you there, and there you are, in blissful peace and happiness. Then, after a while, you feel a itch somewhere between your shoulderblades. The need to go out. Maybe not to hunt, maybe not to kill, but to travel. To spend cold nights at the campfire, sleep on rocky ground. Be all alone with yourself and the wild things, and you look around and wonder why you are not _happy_ with something you yearned for so long." He reached for the bottle and moistened his lips.

"Of course, it's not that way for everyone. Some stay there, content with what they have. Others... ask to come back. You _do_ have a choice, but I know that they are rarely wrong in the decisions they make."

"Who are they? It doesn't really seem like a clean deal to me.. " Cor gripped Auron's shoulder, harder than he meant as he found it hard to balance, trying to get off his feet and stand.

"They are as close to _gods_ as our mind can comprehend, even if they are only servants themselves. And do you seriously expect a clean deal of the likes of a god? Would hear that for the first time from a warrior. Wait, let me help you." And help him he did, even if it didn't need long for Cor to regain his footing.

Cor looked around, trying to take in as much of the garden as he could. The pleasant green scenery almost managed to take his mind off his present worries until he noticed something that he surely was imaging.. or was there really no smell to this place?

"You made it all sound so harmonious before... and now there is a _catch?_ " He put his arm under Auron's and began to walk.

"Not all people are happy to see us. If it all was a walk in the park, _they'_ d probably do it themselves."

 

Whatever other questions were in his head, Cor decided to let it rest for a moment, trying to take it all in, what he was seeing, had heard and felt, making Auron support him as they walked.

"So we do the hard work for them, gotcha."

As they walked, the garden just _continued_ , became _landscape_ , wild and green and filled with twilight. Fireflies danced through warm air.

"They said you wanted to see someone before you came here? We can start with that, before I show you around. Get you your own armor. Just so you see it ain't all bad." The way he said that sounded like there was something more to say, something best left unspoken.

Cor looked at Auron, let down as he could read no more clues off his expression. He tried to remember _them_ and _who_ as they kept walking, but it was a memory that didn't want to surface, still blurry and buried just beyond it all.

“Who is it you want to see? Lover? Child, parents? That's the usual trinity.“

_No, none of those. He had none of those anymore_. Cor shook his head, longer than needed as if that would move the pieces in his head and jog his memory. "What will happen when I go to see them?"

"That is a thing between you and them, really. Hugs, tears, lovemaking. Awkward explanations about your new position. Trying to avoid the question how you died, because most find that quite impolite." Auron raised a brow. "They fucked you up pretty bad, mh?"

Remnants of his former cockiness made Cor jerk his head. When did they not fuck him up _badly_? If someone managed to overpower him they rarely spared him their rage or viciousness, taking all they could from the opportunity. He smiled uneasily. Maybe it was just best to forget it now, about how he died and why he was undressed and why he was here and just go forward now that he could.

"I'll be surprised if I get either. Hugs, affection, I mean." He still didn't know who.

“Whom did you serve in your time? Or were you _ronin_?“ Auron's lack of pity was refreshing.

"What's your interest in me anyway? Or is small talk all one can do here?" As he said it something came back to him. _Regis_.

“Getting to know the new co-worker. Doubt you're in the right mind for sparring right now. Did they at least let you bring your weapon?“ Cor's tone wasn't enough to shake his companion in the slightest.

Slow and steady Cor was starting to feel more like himself, his body his again to control. He walked without Auron's support. "I served a king that I swore an oath to protect with my life and I failed, but that's not.. why I'm here."

“Must have done something right on the way here then. Nobody's that good of a lay that it earns them something close enough to eternity. So, what was it?“

"And your journey to this place was a _fun_ one? What did you _do_?" He was practically a young Marshal now, with each breath memories started to flow, clear and terrible, making him wary of what to share now.

“Was willing to give my life for my best friend. He didn't let me. Was asked to care for a boy instead, a pretty important one, so that was what I did. And yeah, journey was a fun one, at least in parts. Was nice travelling with the kids, even if I'd never admit it to them.“

Cor nodded and swallowed hard, dry and thirsty again, trying not to be overwhelmed by the feeling in him now. _Where had that damn bottle gone?_

"Your friend.. have you met again? And the kids?"

“Died, in the end. Partly because of the kids. Long story, complicated, contains a giant whale.“

Ah, there it was. Auron just drank from it and handed it over. Furrowed his brow. "That hit a nerve, mh? Not the whale, but the rest."

Cor sighed. "Yes. Yes it did." Speaking slowly, after a long silence. It had all been beyond his control, but he still felt guilt, felt it even more with a drink in hand.

 

His companion looked at him. Waited for a while. Nodded then, impressed by having met a man of even fewer words than he was. "Hrm. Get drunk, get you some pants, visit them to say you're still sorry, get a kick in the nuts and be told you're an idiot for being sorry and slowly start to believe they really mean it? Worked for me."

Awkwardly Cor managed to produce a smile that quickly faded away as he scratched the back of his head. His appearance, naked under a kimono he hadn't bothered to close properly and a hard fist around the neck of the bottle surely made it look like he fucked his way to here, improper for reunion of any kind. "So you are comfortable with all this.. whatever this is, Auron?"

“It's not the worst place I've ever been. And you're avoiding my question. How about...a bath, a beer and some silence? Just so you can properly arrive here? It's quite a tumultuous travel for some of us.“ Auron walked with his hands in his pockets, still quite unfazed by the new guy's distress.

"I suppose even the dead need a washing."

 

The _bath_ Auton talked about was a pool in the middle of a little wood, carefully crafted to almost look natural. Here it was day again, golden light dancing through the leaves, glistening on the clear water, hot and slightly salty. Here, the air was alive, smelled of fire and autumn and first snow even though it was not cold.

The one-eyed man didn't seem to care too much for reason here, pulling towels and cold cans out of thin air, and it did not take long until they both sat soaked to their shoulders in the cozy pool, drinking beer and keeping their mouths shut until they opened the third can. "That you must have done something impressive with your life, even if fate didn't let you save your king. That was what I meant. Not your qualities as a lover." Auron melted even deeper into the water.

_Impressive? Killing, getting beaten and abused and failing to save people dear to him?_

Cor's nod was more of a curious, reserved tilt than an actual nod as he thought to himself.

“You know we can't save them all, don't you? As much as we may try. Not that it will keep us from trying.“ A friendly bump against the tense shoulder. "Only because the heroes in the stories survive when they rise up against the gods, it doesn't have to be that way. More often than not, it isn't. And if people die on the way to an important goal, we should be proud of them. Not sad about our loss."

"He already sacrificed _enough_! To die weak and unable to defend himself is not how that should have happened! It shouldn't have happened at all, not when I could have been there, not when it should have been my life instead of his." Cor's outburst was sudden. He felt apologetic, his guilt once again corrupting a peaceful place.

"Is that how shit went down? Who told you? Those who killed him?" Auron still calm, still patient.

"He should not have been without proper security measures, that is _how_ shit went down." Cor stared at the water that remained tranquil.

"Do you _know_?"

Cor became even more quiet, even more fixated at getting lost in the water's lucidity. Many nights since his death he had been drunk, beaten down, barely able to cope with the insurmountable thoughts of Regis' last moments. _No_ , he didn't know and it hurt _more_ even if he always succumbed as he imagined all the anguish and desperation that Regis must have gone through, but there was only one conclusion that he always came back to.

"I _know_ I should have been there." Stubborn, unwilling to debate other sides of the matter. The hot water and beer did nothing to soothe the tension now.

"Do you _want_ to know before you decide if it is him him you wanna meet?" Auron had understood the _No, but that's what I choose to believe_ that was between Cor's words very well.

Slowly, as the words began to make sense, Cor turned his head and looked at Auron, questioning, dumbfounded. "How.. Is that a thing? .. _How_?"

"Write a message to those that keep the records and ask nicely. Told you the job has benefits." He grinned.

Still not used to Auron's carefreeness Cor watched, waited for further explanation and then just nodded. For a while again Cor was without words, but less tense, sipping his beer and enjoying its taste now and then.

A sharp whistle on two fingers, and soon black wings carried a bird to them. The raven sat at the edge of the pool and looked at them with clever eyes. "Bonding time, eh?" it croaked. "Got a sip for me too?"

Auron reached out and placed a delicate porcelain bowl in front the messenger. Filled it from his own can, and the bird drank.

"Yeah, bonding time. Say, would you mind taking a request to the hall of records for him?"

"Why don't you just tell me what you wanna know?"

"Because I don't wanna _know_ whom it's about. It's his thing, and his alone."

A satisfied caw. "Secrets. I love those. So, freshman, whose story shall I get you?" It hopped over to Cor, so he could share the name.

 

The marshal wondered about the bird, wondered if it had a name or home or wandered like them. He gave the raven the name he thought of so often but rarely spoke out loud or shared, feeling slightly silly that he was so careful about it.

“Isn't that more of a job description? I mean, what kind of parent goes out and... oh well. To each their own. Need the whole story?“

"Yes.. Yes." He felt a knot in his stomach and began to shiver, sweat under the hot water as he wondered if he was making a mistake. He focused on his arms, scratching an imagery itch before he crossed them, trying to ease up, cracking his neck all within a moment before he finally regarded the feathered messenger with his pale eyes. He swallowed hard and nodded. "I _need_ to know.. how he.. _pain_.. the fear he.."  His voice cracked, quickly flushed with beer. "The whole story, yes. Thank you."

“As you like, boss.“

 

And the _whole story_ was what he got. The raven brought a scroll that started with _Regis Lucis Caelum was born on_ and closed with his decision - a decision the writer found very commendable - to take up arms one last time and face death like a man instead of waiting for his slow, painful end. Cor existed in this story as one loved all along, as one loved despite all reason.

Auron and the bird let him read in peace, drinking beer and playing checkers.

Among the pain that so subtly distorted his face there were a few smiles and fewer tears until at last Cor put his hand to his forehead, covering his teary eyes. He took a couple of deep breaths, reading a few parts over again before putting the scroll aside.

"Huh."

He didn't know if there was relief in his sigh, but as the world once again fell in place, slowly and in a different way, he found the beer to somehow taste a bit better. _Damn you, Regis._

“His eyes are leaking,“ the raven commented, ever helpful. “He's a-salting your pool.“

Auron grunted. Mumbled a friendly “Oh, fuck off,“ and tried halfheartedly to shoo it away. The bird was kind enough for a few lazy hops.

“So you were in the wrong for once?“ He tapped demonstratively on the raised corner of his own mouth.

A smile. "I guess so."

He looked at Auron and then the raven. "Thank you. Thank you for that." He felt lighter than he had in years, all sorts of knots and threads unraveling as he thought back, holes in his memory still here and there, but gradually emerging and held together by the precious scroll.

“Hrm. Might want to remember that for the next time I'm telling you something, bud.“ Grumpy face, but his eye was smiling. “So, we gonna visit someone?“

The smile that still lingered faintly grew bigger and prominent as he thought over the question.

"Yeah, that might actually not be a bad idea."

"Do you need pants or would they just be in the way?" The raven croaked.

"Don't you have something to do, birdo?"

"Don't _you_ have something to do, you one-eyed..."

"Don't. Don't say it."

A small laugh escaped Cor's mouth as he watched them bicker, shaking his head at how surreal everything continued to be.

"I suppose it would serve best if I was decent." His hand emerged from under the water to grab hold of his beer, before he drank, he tilted the can forwards towards his company, no words said but it was clear as any _cheers_ could be.

"You could borrow him yours, one-eye-two-legs. Just for a while. And I'll go and show him the way, because I'm pretty sure you don't want to see that. I mean, it's not like you're minding some fresh air on your cheeks if you aren't expecting visitors."

Auron sighed. "True enough."

"I truly apologize for stealing your clothes, Auron." Cor was felt woozy, pondered what he would do if a raven told him to share his clothes. _All to meet you again, old friend._

“ _Borrow_ . Meaning you bring them back and clean off any stains your _adventures_ might leave. If you lose your way, let the boots guide you. They know the path here.“

“Took your boozed butt home before dawn more than once, eh?“

“Shut your beak, or I'll do it for you.“

“Like you could catch me with my wings clipped!“ Still, the bird fluttered out of arm's reach, just to be sure.

"You think an awful lot about me getting laid, Auron."  He was feeling a bit saucy as he got dressed in the rest of those slightly too big clothes.

 

In his wildest dreams he'd never imagine the afterlife to be like this, idyllic places with beers and bath and being entertained by a man and a bird's arguments, but death indeed had many surprises.

"Lead the way, friend."

"I've seen enough people to know what _they_ think about, boy, and that most often leaves stains. Take care of him, wretched raven, you hear?"

"Nevermore." The bird giggled. It wasn't a pleasant noise. “He can do that himself. Come on, sky eyes. Let’s go.”

Cor just nodded as the raven landed on his shoulder and _went_ , his heart strangely light.

 


End file.
